Tom Marvolo Riddle
by TheDragonDancer
Summary: Tom Riddle was once an innocent child... but there are things that can grow a garden of bitterness in the most angelic child. Rating may rise. WIP
1. In The Beginning

            Disclaimer: I do not own Tom Riddle, Howarts, etc. Chracters such as Matilda Riddle, and more are _my_ creation, and you may use with my permission!

Chapter One : In the beginning

Tom Marvolo Riddle loved his mother. She had dark blue eyes rimmed with the darkest blue, and fine, soft, platinum hair. Tom's favorite thing about his mother was her hair. He loved the feel of it between his fingers, the way it smelled of jasmine and clover. Matilda Riddle loved her son in return; though she sometimes looked at him with disgust, all too well remembering the man that had left her. It was on one of these occasions, as Tom entered her room, that she told her son of his repulsive father. Tom crawled into his mother's lap and rested his head against his mother's breast. Matilda brought a hand to Tom's head, softly stroking the soft tendrils of black hair.

"You have your father's hair." She whispered unintentionally. Anger and sorrow rose in her, and she cursed herself for bringing up the painful thought.

"What was my father like, mum?" Tom asked innocently.

"He was tall, and dashingly handsome…" She whispered, her eyes glazing over.

"Why is he not here with us mummy?"

His mother's eyes hardened, and she looked down at him with a scowl. "Your father left us Tom. He left us because- because… of Mummy's wand…"

Tom's eyes ventured to the slim willow wand that lay on his mother's vanity table. "Why mum?"

Matilda messaged her temples. She considered sending the boy away… but he needed to know.

"Your father found it, Tom. I never meant for him to see it, but… My parents had warned me of course. 'That muggle will not respect you, he'll send you away if he discovers your abilities, Matilda.'" She mimicked.

Tom did not like the way his mother's face was contorting. He was scared of what was going through her mind. He laid his hand over his mother's, hoping to calm her. His mother was silent for awhile, and Tom was hopeful that she was done, but she looked up, and continued with a vengeance.

"He was angry beyond belief. I told him it was just a stick of wood. He asked why I had hid it. I broke down and begged him not to leave me… I told him I was with child, the son he had dreamed of. He spat at me, telling me he did not want my cursed child. He told me I would go to hell for my witchcraft." She paused, blinking hard to keep the tears at bay. "He hit me across the face, leaving a gash from the ring he wore… his wedding band…" She gently touched a white line across her cheek. "I scrambled for the wand he had thrown to the floor… I told him not to hit me ever again… He went for the door, and I begged him not to leave. He showed no mercy… He left me with you Tom, my parents had publicly disowned me, I had no inheritance, nothing but his name and child, without a penny to that name." She began shake then, and Tom wrapped his arms around his mother, trying to console her. Matilda pushed her son off of her and covered her face. "Go to bed, Tom, don't disturb me again tonight."

Tom obeyed his mother. His mother told him that all they had left was their pride, and that he had to be an obedient, proper child to keep the pride. So he lay in his bed, not leaving his room, even when he heard the shatter of glass. The small, dirty apartment was silent from then on.

The next morning, Tom awoke hoping to see his mother awake and cheerful once again. To his disappointment, he found her door closed and locked. He sank down against the door, waiting patiently for his mother to awake. Several hours passed and his mother still had not made a sound from within her room. Tom knocked cautiously on the door. "Mummy? Are you awake yet?" He called gently. There was no answer. He leaned his head against the door and waited once again. As he watched the sun set through the grimy window of the apartment, he became impatient. He stood and knocked heartily on the door. "Mother! Please come out!" He said loudly through the door. No sound came from the room. Tom began to fear for his mother, she did not stay angry this long. "Mother!" He yelled, and the door exploded. Tom was not exactly sure how this happened, but he stepped gingerly into the room. "Mum?" He coughed, trying to see through the dust. As the filth settled, he face contorted in horror…

Matilda Riddle hung from the ceiling, her body limp and eyes open and unblinking. A broken bottle of Firewhisky lay shattered across the floor. Tom went forward hesitantly, stepping carefully over the glass, and touched his fingers to his mother's delicate hand. He drew it away quickly when he realized it was icy cold. Her wand hung in her hand, and Tom gently removed it.

"Mother…" He whispered. "What did this to you, mummy?" He looked into his mother's dark blue eyes, eyes that he shared… and the answer was whispered to him. _Your father… your muggle father…_ Determination hardened the little boy's face. "He will pay, mother! I will make him pay!" Tom shouted.

            Tom then used the wand and a spell he'd seen his mother use ("Wingardium Leviosa.") to lower her down.  He looked at her face as she lay on her bed, her eyes eternally staring. He reached forward and gently closed her eyes, placing a tender kiss on her cheek.

            Even as young as Tom was, he knew better than to stick around when there was a death to be blamed for. So he fled his mother's side, into the streets. Only six-years-old, and plotting his first murder.

A/N: Please review… This is my first Harry Potter fic, and mainly a WIP. So please tell me what you think.


	2. Merlin As My Witness

Disclaimer: Tom Riddle belongs to J.K. Rowling, other characters belong to me, and may be used but please ask!

Tom was curled up underneath a discarded newspaper, shivering and wishing for warmth. He had no money, nor a place to go. He and his mother were rejected, thrown away bit of nothings, living off what they could. He had grabbed a few personal possessions, of course. A picture of his mother in her school uniform when she was fourteen, a picture of him and his mother in the park, and his mother's wand were all tucked into a ratty pillow case. He untied the pillowcase and pulled out the picture of him and his mother. Tom looked at her smiling face for a long time, gently stroking it. He felt his eyes sting with unshed tears, and they gently began to roll down his young round face. He watched intently as his mother bent and kissed his cheek and hoisted him up onto her lap. In the distance, he heard a cracking sound, and looked up to see storm clouds gathering. He realized that he would have to seek shelter, or else he'd be caught in the rain.

As he was walking up the street, a voice called from behind. "You there! Stop!"

Tom felt a rising since of dread. This couldn't be good. He turned around slowly, seeing a muggle police officer standing a few feet behind him. "Yes sir?"

"What are you doing out this late son?"

Tom stared up at the man, unable to think of an appropriate answer. "Trying to get to London, sir." He answered.

The police officer laughed. Which ticked Tom's nerves. "Where's you mum, kid?"

Tom's eyes saddened. "Back at our apartment."

"Ah, a run away, eh? Well, let's get you back home. Where do you live?"

"I lived in the building next to the old cotton mill."

The officer frowned. "That's not a good place for a child to grow up."

Tom frowned and shrugged.

"Alright lad, let's get you back to your mum now." He took Tom by the shoulder and began to guide him off, but Tom wrenched himself out of the man's grasp.

"My mum is dead." He said.

"Ah but you said she was at the apartment."

"She is, but she's dead."

The man paled. "Let's get you to the station, we'll send somebody out to check on your mum."

Before Tom could protest, he was carted of to the police station. He was sitting in the most uncomfortable chair he had ever set eyes on, shifting every now and then. A woman approached him and sat in the chair next to him.

"You said your name was Tom? Is that short for Thomas?" The woman asked kindly.

"No." Tom said shortly.

"Ah… Well love… Your mother… she…"

"She is dead." Tom said simply.

The woman stared at Tom, wondering how such a young child could speak so lightly of this, without shedding a tear. "Y-yes… but the important thing is, she has gone to a better place. And… and you are going to live in an orphanage until… until a nice family can adopt you."

Tom stared at this woman for a long moment. He did not understand the concept of an orphanage, but he merely nodded. She was obviously unnerved by this child's calmness, and in a stuttering mess, tried to take his hand. Tom wrenched his small hand from the woman's grasp, not wanting to be touched. It was his way of coping.

Three Years Later

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Tom was looking at the picture of his mum, stroking it gently. Christopher, a tall broad boy that was two years older than Tom came over and stood over him.

"What you got there?" Without waiting for an answer, Christopher ripped the picture from Tom's hand. "A blank piece of glossy paper?" Tom smirked, Christopher was such a muggle he couldn't even see the picture. "What're you smirking about? You're just a little rat, ruddy wanker." Tom reached for the picture, still not saying anything. Christopher moved it out of his reach, grinning. "I don't think so. Why is it so important to you?" Tom sat back.

"It reminds me of my mother." He said simply, reaching for the picture again.

"Aww the little baby misses his mummy…" taunted Christopher.

Tom felt his anger begin to boil. He hated Christopher with raw passion, and he had before launched at the other boy in his rage. That had only ended with his punishment, and more taunting from Christopher. So Tom sat back, watching Christopher carefully, his rage growing deeper inside of him until he felt he would bust. Then there was a loud crashing sound, and Tom though for a moment he had busted, until he realized a porcelain wash bowl behind Christopher had exploded, showering them with glass. Tom ducked his head, and he only lifted his head when he heard a raging scream of agony. He lifted his head to see Christopher had a large gash across his face, and Tom couldn't help but smirk.

"You." Hissed Christopher. "You did this- it's all your fault."

Tom's smirk slid off his face, and he stared at the older boy in disbelief. "It was all the way over there- I couldn't have!" Tom protested, but Christopher grabbed him up by the back of his shirt and drug him off.

Tom was sitting in a chair, looking at the owner of the orphanage. A tall, severe looking woman, her eyes bore into Tom's soul. "What happened?"

"Christopher took something of mine, and he wouldn't give it back." Tom explained.

"So you got angry. You took the vase and busted it over his head?"

"No!" Tom said angrily. "It just- broke. I think maybe I got so angry that it busted."

"Like magic?" The woman ventured.

Tom looked up at her, thinking maybe she knew about magic. "Yes, it must have been my magic, I can't cont-"

"Don't give me that nonsense, Tom Riddle. Do not tell lies. You will be punished for wounding another child and telling lies to an adult."

Tom wanted to scream at her, to yell and put her through pain, but he bit his tongue and nodded. He was paddled brutally and sent to bed without dinner. He lay in his bed, sore and hungry, vowing that he would never let muggles treat him like this ever again. They would pay.

A/N So how's that for a second chapter. Can you see where he's coming from now? Trust me- It gets better. Leave a review!


	3. To Hogwarts

            Tom was lying on his cot, staring up at the ceiling when Ms. Mossley entered the room looking for him. "Tom, you have a letter." Tom sat up suddenly.

            "A letter?" He scrambled forward and the woman handed it to him and Tom stared at the front.

Tom Marvolo Riddle

Mossley's Boy Orphanage, London

8th Cot From the Door

He was going to Hogwarts. He couldn't help but feel a bubbly rush in the pit of his stomach.

"Well, Are you going to open it?" The woman asked

"Not while you're here." Tom snapped

The woman glared at him, and made to take the letter away but Tom moved quickly out of her reach. With one last glare she left, and Tom carefully opened the thick envelope. There were three letters: One informed him he had been accepted to Hogwarts, Another was a list of things he would need, and the last was a letter from Professor Dumbledore. It read:

Dear Tom Riddle,

I would like to inform you that I will be coming to get you August 31st to get your school supplies and proceed to King's Cross Station the next day. See you soon.

Professor Albus Dumbledore

            --

            August 31st came quicker than Tom had expected. When the morning came, Tom was up, packed and prepared to leave. Professor Dumbledore arrived at 11 A.M. sharp, and quickly ushered Tom away.

            Once they were in Diagon Alley, Dumbledore suggested getting Tom's wand first. Tom frowned. "I have a wand already." He said quietly.

Dumbledore looked at him carefully, raising one eyebrow. "How did you get your hands on this wand?"

"It was my mother's wand." He said simply.

Dumbledore frowned. "Mr. Riddle, I will need to confiscate that wand."

Tom stared at the professor in disbelief and anger. "I want to use it!" He protested.

"It is not safe to use a dead witch or wizards wand, or, for that matter, for it to remain in existence. They are temper mental and can do harm." Dumbledore explained.

It did not matter to Tom that Dumbledore was expressing concern for him, doing what he though best. All Tom could see was that he hated Dumbledore, and he was unyielding in this bitter dislike for his new teacher.

The first shop they entered was the wand shop, a narrow shop with gold lettering that read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. Tom thought that the lettering looked as though it would soon be peeling, and needed to be re-done. A handsome man with fair hair and large, pale silver eyes stood behind the counter. Tom stepped forward and introduced himself.

"Tom Riddle." He said, holding his hand out.

"Hello Sir, Mr. Ollivander. Here to buy your wand for Hogwarts, I take it." It was a statement, not a question. Tom nodded, and they began the process. Much later, they had gone through several wands, Mr. Ollivander picked up one box from the back. It was dusty and looked as though it hadn't been taken out or tested in years. Ollivander brought it forward.

"Yew, Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Very powerful wand, Mr. Riddle. Give this a wave."

Tom took the wand, and felt warmth in his fingers, waving it gently, silver and green sparks emitted from the tip.

"Very good. Thirteen-and-a-half inches, Yew, Phoenix Feather core. Such a powerful wand, you shall be an incredible wizard one day, Mr. Riddle." Ollivander said, boxing the wand.

"I know." Tom said simply. Dumbledore, who had been quiet the whole time, looked up and watched Tom, his eyes sparkling mysteriously.

To Platform 9¾

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The next day Dumbledore took Tom to King's Cross Station. He told Tom of the barrier between nine and ten. Tom was skeptical of the older man, but he did not say so. Dumbledore apparated out and left Tom to his own. The boy walked to platform nine and looked at the barrier. Taking his trolley, he leaned carefully against the barrier, and felt himself slip through. He looked around him to see people, presumably students, milling about.

Tom felt a smirk cross his lips. He was finally in the company of people who deserved him. No more filthy muggles.

--

A/N – It has been brought to my attention- actually I noticed bitterly, that I wasn't getting any reviews. None! I'm rather fond of this story, I think it rather good. Are people just not reading it? Please, Please REVIEW! I'm feeling rather disheartened that I haven't gotten any.

If you've read this and want more you better review. Because I may very well stop.


	4. I Dream Of You

_I dream of you…_

            Tom Riddle was stepping off the train, staring into the mass crowd of students. That's when he saw it, a head of long platinum blonde hair. He was extremely startled, for that was his mother's hair. He wanted to get close to her, to touch that hair. He tried hopelessly to get closer to her, but the bustling crowd made it impossible. He was soon swept away by the crowd down a narrow steep path to the bank of a lake. There were boats, and people began to get in them in groups of four. Tom got into one quickly. The boats took off suddenly, and Tom saw her ahead in one of the boats. He couldn't see her face, and he leaned around to try and get a better look.

            "Watch it." Hissed an older student next to him. Tom scowled at him.

            The girl was trailing her long pale fingers through the water, making ripples in the others wise still, smooth lake. Tom was utterly entranced by this girl. She turned, as if in slow motion, and looked directly at Tom, as if she knew he'd been watching. Her eyes were bright emeralds and struck him, taking his breath away. All he could do was stare open mouthed as she smirked and turned back around. Soon they were all ducking and going inside a wide opening in the cliff face. They went along a dark tunnel which led them to a little harbor and everyone clambered out. They went up the path and inside two huge oak doors that lead to an enormous entrance hall. Professor Dumbledore met them there and herded the first years into a small chamber off the hall, while the others went in the door to the right. Dumbledore told them they would soon be sorted, and to be patient. A few moments later Dumbledore returned and led them in a line to the Great Hall.

            Tom was still looking around frantically for the girl he had seen earlier. He had lost her when they got off the boats. _Did I just imagine her? Please… let her be real._  He thought, his dark blue eyes still searching for some sign of her.

            Tom was suddenly shaken out of his reverie when Ramirez, Carmella was sorted into Gryffindor. He was coming up.

            "Riddle, Tom." Called Dumbledore, and Tom made his way to the stool and sat down as the hat was plopped over his eyes.

            '_Hello, Tom Riddle. A nice mind you have here. You could do well in Ravenclaw.' _Said a voice in his head. He shuddered- he didn't like the feel of it.

            "I will be put in Slytherin." He told the hat.

            _'Quite bossy aren't you? Slytherin is definitely in your blood, that I can see. You are not brave enough for Gryffindor…' _ Tom clenched and unclenched his teeth. "Slytherin." He hissed. _'Oh, all right then. _SLYTHERIN'

            Tom proudly stood and turned toward the Slytherin table and sat down. As he took his seat next to a tall girl with long, shiny black hair, he continued searching the crowd for that platinum head of hair. Then her saw her step up as the name Strife, Isobelle was called. She sat down carefully on the bench as the hat covered her eyes. A moment later, the hat shouted 'SLYTHERIN!' and the girl took a seat a few people away from Tom. He tried not to stare, but he couldn't help it. She was beautiful, her pale pointed face like a faerie. He noticed that she did not talk to anyone at all. He wondered if perhaps she was a loner.

This was the beginning of his obsession.

A/N- My wonderful beta, SickFantasyChick, who also happens to be one of my BESTEST friends (LOVE YOU!) Said Isobelle seems MarySue-ish. While she may seem such right now because shes sooo beautiful… that's not everything. Besides, it's only what Tom thinks. So, REVIEW!!! The more reviews I get, the more I want to keep writing. Much love… peace… REVIEW.


	5. Without Incantation

"First year this way!" Called the tall black haired girl Tom had sat by. He followed her closely, determined not to get lost in the crowds.

"That girl is definitely beautiful. She's from a long line of pureblood wizards from Egypt." Said a first year boy beside him. He had golden brown hair and eyes like warm honey. "Caleb Cabrera, first year." Said the boy, holding out his hand.

"Tom Riddle." Tom said, shaking the boy's hand.

"You're a pureblood of course, I am too. Slytherin doesn't take anything else though, so I guess that's obvious."

Tom gave a dry, forced laugh. "Yes, of course." He lied. He wasn't completely sure, but he had a feeling that having a muggle father did not constitute pureblood. His stomach wrenched. A subconscious decision was made, that he would keep his lineage a secret.

After they had entered the common room, Tom took a seat beside Caleb. He looked into the fire as other first years began to fill in around them.

"Do you play quidditch? I do. I have a Comet. It's brilliant." Caleb continued to prattle on endlessly about the silly sport. Tom had no interest in sports. He remembered the children in the orphanage used to play cricket. At first, he had wanted to join them. When he asked, however, they laughed, jeered at him. "You? You're odd, no one wants you here." He had been sad at first, but eventually it had helped him become strong. Muggles were horrible, cruel things. He was at Hogwarts now, and wizards and witches were good.

Tom was shaken out of his reverie by a low whistle. He looked up from the flames to see a tall, sandy haired fifth year approaching Isobelle. She was standing her ground, glaring ferociously at the boy. Tom watched the scene cautiously from the other side of the room, his fingers touching his wand thoughtfully.

"Nice body for an undeveloped firstie." The fifth year growled, reaching out to touch the blonde girl. Tom whipped out his wand, moving to blast the bastard into oblivion. He would not have that filthy thing touching his beauty. Before he could act, however, the boy was suddenly thrown face first into the stone dungeon floor. He stood quickly, staring, trying to figure out what had happened. He realized that she had done it- in a flash, using his body weight against him, thrown him to the floor by his arm.

"Wow! Did you see that! Bloody hell… A first year, a girl no less, taking on Malcolm Massner. He's a fifth year!" Caleb exclaimed.

Tom nodded vaguely, staring after Isobelle in fascination.

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It was Tom's second day of classes, and he was currently trying to dislodge his charms book from a trick stair. He looked at Caleb, who was standing behind him with a furrowed brow.

"Bugger. Just leave it. We shouldn't be late." Caleb said.

"…But my homework." Tom muttered.

"Bullocks to your homework. It's not coming out."

Tom sighed. "Look, you go on to class. Tell the professor where I am. I'm going to give this a few more tries."

Caleb shrugged and hurried down the stairs, bolting away. Tom took hold of the protruding book and tugged.

"Having trouble?" Came a taunting voice behind him. Tom turned around, hopeful for a hand. All optimism drained from him at seeing the figure. The boy was sneering haughtily. He moved forward purposefully and shoved Tom sideways against the railing, bent down and wrenched the book out with a mighty pull.

"Oh, thank y-

"Shut up. Who said I did it for you? It was in my way." The boy said.

"Please, I'm late for class." Tom pleaded, holding out his hand.

"Fine, but you have to catch me first." He said wickedly, running off with Tom's book. Tom groaned and chased after him. Try as he might, Tom couldn't keep up with the obviously older boy. By the time he caught up with him, he was panting and holding a stitch in his side. Tom noted that the boy was a Gryffindor by his tie. The boy was levitating the book just above Tom's head.

"Go on, jump for it."

Tom leapt hopelessly with his hand outstretched, the tips of his fingers barely ghosting over the spine. He would have had it, had it not move a good three inches up. Tom felt his rage returned and he growled. "Give me my book!" He protested.

The other boy smirked at him. "Make me."

Tom retrieved his wand from his robes. "Give it here." He snarled.

"Oh is the firstie is going to shoot sparks at me! I'm so sc-" He began sarcastically, but fell to his knees, shuddering. Tom's wand was vibrating, and the Gryffindor curled up, writhing. Satisfaction had barely been tasted when Tom shook himself. This was insane! He lifted his wand, removing the curse.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" Tom had expected glaring hatred, turning or running, a hex cast his way, but he was caught off guard by a solid fist locking with his jaw, sending him reeling. Tom's mind spun as he tasted his own blood in his mouth and he collapsed to the ground, his head hitting the stone floor, and he fell into a blackness

A/N- I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this out. I've had half of it for awhile, and was debating whether or not to post it, but it didn't seem done. The next chapter will be up very very soon, by Tuesday at the most. So, a few hints about my plot! Pay attention to the Egyptian girl. She'll be very important! I was also agitated that someone else is writing a Tom Riddle fic, and they have a lot more up than me. I read through theirs, and was relieved to find many, many key differences. Wooh. Though I like their starting better… o.O Oh well. Please review you guys! So I feel good about this and keep liking it. I'm also working on a few other stories, so when they're up, please read!


	6. The Beatings

And The Beatings Began

Tom awoke, his head feeling swollen and his mouth dry. Lifting his head, he attempted to take in his surroundings. He was in a very clean chamber with rows of uncomfortable iron cot beds. A woman in white robes was on the bed next to his, stirring a purple liquid in a beaker.

"Ah," Said the woman, looking up and noticing him at last. "You're awak. Only the second day of classes and you're already fighting. You'll be quite the trouble maker." She said, eyeing him sternly.

"I- he tried, but started to cough roughly. The woman poured her purple liquid into a glass and handed it to Tom. He drank the entire potion, despite its vile taste.

"I was not fighting. A boy just hit me." He said. It wasn't _really_ a lie.

The woman stared at him harshly. "Of course. You can go. You'll keep your swollen lip as a reminder, but you're fine otherwise."

Tom nodded and climbed out of the bed. He found his shirt, tie and robe lying across a chair and quickly put them on. He frowned at the tie around his neck. The double Windsor knot Caleb had tied for him had fallen out. He had no idea how to tie it, so he left it undone.

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Tom entered the Great Hall for lunch to meet many passing whispers. He swallowed, ignoring the curious glances and passing of gossip behind hands. As he passed the Gryffindor table to sit with his house, he caught snitches of conversation.

"Devil spawn…"

"Didn't even say a spell!"

"…just stay away…"

Tom took his seat at the Slytherin table, not bothering to eat his Shepherds Pie. It wasn't like he cared. No, he would not let it bother him. He was strong; stronger than all of them. He hadn't done anything wrong! Even though he hardened his heart, he felt a dull aching. Were they not different? They had to be different from those horrible muggles, from his father. Tom looked down his table. The Slytherins eyed him carefully. They did not whisper, they were not scared. Wary, but not hateful. He liked it. He figured he would be okay.

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After lunch the Slytherins returned to their common room. Tom collapsed onto the couch in front of the fire. The rest of the crowd filed into the dungeon, some retiring to dorms, some milling about the common room. Tom spotted Caleb across the room and smiled, but Caleb did not smile back. Caleb took a seat far away from Tom, ignoring the other boy's quizzical glance. Tom could only find himself staring at Caleb, confusion lurking in his dark blue eyes.

Tom sighed and sunk back against the sofa cushions. He let his eyes droop closed and the waves of stress wash over him. A cough within close proximity startled him out of his self-pity, and Tom opened his eyes to be greeted by a grinning, towering figure. Dread sank in his gut. Somehow, he already knew what was coming. He was jerked up by the front of his shirt, the venomous smile inches from his face.

"Tom Riddle. A powerful little firstie. Don't get any ideas, kid. You may be all powerful and all that shit, but I can still take you." Hissed the older Slytherin.

"Okay." Tom said simply. He thought that this would clear things up, but he was mistaken. The older boy sneered, and smashed Tom's body against the stone of the nearest wall.

"You're not better than me. Than any of us." He growled, slamming Tom against the rock once more. A fist collided with his face for the second time that day. He felt himself being thrown to the floor and the pain beating down on him. Tom tapped out, falling into a dream like state where the pain seemed dull and nothing mattered. He didn't know how long the beating lasted, nor how long he lay there afterward. The only thing that stuck out was the soft whisper. "Remember my name, Spollen."

Everything else all seemed to blur and then refocus as he heard his name. His god damn name.

"Tom…Tom, can you hear me? You bastard, wake up!"

Tom's eyes focused carefully on honey eyes. "Caleb?"

"Yes, we have to get you to the hospital wing. Can you walk?"

"No. No, no, no." Tom said, shaking his head but finding this an excruciating action.

"What? You don't want to? Why not?"

"The woman there, no. I don't want to. Just take me up to the dorm, okay?"

Caleb shrugged and practically dragged Tom up the staircase, as Tom's own legs weren't of much use at the moment. After Tom was in his four poster, Caleb fidgeted.

"I won't be talking to you much anymore Tom."

"What are you on about Caleb?"

"They're going to single you out. Make a point of you. They'll take me down with you if I'm around you. I'm sorry."

Tom didn't think he sounded apologetic at all. He wasn't quite sure what to make of this, so he looked away. "Okay." He said simply, and went to sleep.

A/N: Sorry I didn't get this up as soon as promised. I thought I'd have time and I didn't… But then again, I'm not sorry! Because I'm still not getting a whole lot of reviews! And I refuse to update again until I get at least five. Muaha! Anyway… Don't you feel sorry for Tom? If not, you will. That's all the hints you get until you review you evil nonreviewers! Heh. More soon. _Kisses and Jests – The Dragon Dancer_


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